Shoved Together
by Sigerson
Summary: What happens when Snape is forced to spend three whole days rooming with the know-it-all of Gryffindor? Why do all of my bad summaries start with "What happens?" What happens when readers review? Dun dun dunn...
1. In Which Things Cannot Get Any Worse

"Miss Granger! Kindly keep your hands off my person!"  
  
"I can't help it, sir." Severus Snape's heart stopped -  
  
"Miss Granger-"  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor, but the other tourists are shoving. I didn't mean to run into you, honestly." - and started again.  
  
He looked out among the sea of muggles jarring him and his student, and set his death glare on 'melt'. Everything in their immediate vicinity stopped dead, then backed away very, very slowly.  
  
"Come along, Miss Granger."

###

Snape's mind was currently chasing itself in circles. Why was it always him?  
  
_"Severus! Severus! I wondered if I might have a word-"  
  
"Headmaster, I can hardly banish you. Say what you must." _He could actually sense the doom. Dumbledore only called on him when it was something he would stoutly refuse to do until hog-tied, threatened, and volunteered against his will._  
  
"This invitation just arrived on my desk. Do you know of the conference in British Columbia? Starting tomorrow, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, sir. I was intending-"  
  
"You really should go."  
  
"I understand that my duties at Hogwarts are far more importa- What did you say?"  
  
"Good! I knew you'd agree!"_  
  
Before he could get in another word, a bit of paper had been promptly shoved into his hands through the fireplace and the meddling old fool's face had vanished. The invitation had read as thus:  
  
_Dear Potions Masters and Mistresses:  
  
There has been a change of plans in the schedule of our meeting. We are going to be lucky enough to have Professor Darling speak. As many of you already know, Professor Darling is Potions Master at Enfalac School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Nunavut. Not only that, but he is a recipient of The Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his multiple discoveries in the field of medicinal potions.  
  
The Ministry of Magic has made suggestions for some alterations in the Potions curriculum, and Professor Darling will be presenting an introductory course for the program. All those attending are asked to bring along their top student, so that in this preparatory phase we can have the input of our minors._  
  
The letter went on and on about the prestige of the whole thing, and Severus found himself reaching into his desk and biting the cap off a Butterbeer. The thought of three days rooming with Draco Malfoy in Canada made his stomach churn. He took a gulp of the warming fluid and wondered in passing if his situation could worsen at all. Then he spotted Dumbledore's note in the border of the letter:  
  
_Severus: Have reviewed potions marks over past seven years just now. Miss Granger has been informed, is currently packing a few belongings, will meet you on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. Substitute teacher already arranged. Enjoy Canada._  
  
He had smacked his head into the stone wall of his office, but was relieved to think that things could only get better.  
  
_P.S.: House points cannot be removed off school grounds.  
  
_

###

So here he was, almost powerless against whatever stunt Granger decided to pull, getting into the Knight Bus so he could tour B.C.  
  
"Hey, hey, Ernie! Slow down for a moment! The passengers aren't all in yet!" Oh Merlin, they still had the shrunken head. He closed his eyes and tried to make his migraine go away through willpower alone. Failing in this, he snatched his satchel from Granger and yanked out a headache remedy and some Butterbeer.  
  
Waiting until the bus wasn't swerving quite so much, he yanked the lid off the remedy and gulped it down, then popped the cap of the Butterbeer and downed a portion of it as well. Granger was eyeing him in a most disturbing manner.  
  
"Miss Granger?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"What is it that you're staring at?"  
  
"Nothing! Nothing, sir." She turned away, blushing, to look across the aisle at a few of the other passengers, most of which were vomiting into small bags. Snape was looking at her, deep in thought. Some liquid splashed onto his hand, and he looked down. His Butterbeer had sloshed a little.  
  
He tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. Not lunch, he'd had to skip it to be on time for Granger, but he'd managed to get some breakfast. Granger had probably skipped both: Breakfast so she could go around to all his colleagues and ask for assignments, and lunch to be at the train on time. He looked at his Butterbeer again, then conjured a glass.  
  
"Drink, Miss Granger. If you collapse, I will be held responsible. I would very much dislike scraping what's left of you off the window and bringing you back to Hogwarts in a bucket." She had smiled weakly at this, only to receive a chilling sneer in return.  
  
"Thank you, sir. Cheers."  
  
He mumbled something that sounded almost, but not quite like 'Cheers.' in return, then turned and looked out the window. Five seconds later, this was marked down as a Poor Decision, and he was looking straight forward, his pale face tinged green.  
  
"Professor? Are you carsick?" His jaw set and began ticking.  
  
"Miss Granger, contrary to popular belief, you need not know everything. Be silent and drink."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
A few hours and bags of sick later, the Knight Bus was parked outside the Rosedale on Robson. He couldn't even begin to comprehend why Dumbledore had booked them into a muggle hotel. He gave the lobby a once-over, deemed it satisfactory, and set about getting his room. He walked up to the uniformed woman behind the front desk.  
  
"I have a reservation. My name is Snape." The young woman tapped something on her computer, then retrieved a key from the rack behind her. Smiling, she passed it to him over the desk.  
  
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Snape." He jumped, suddenly transformed from civil to sour. He scowled and snatched the key from the woman, then hoisted his luggage and headed for the stairs. Just as he reached the first step, he was aware of a small, delicate hand on his arm. Belonging to Granger.  
  
"What. Is. It." He barely managed to speak through his clenched teeth.  
  
"Our room's on the top floor, Professor. Couldn't we take the elevator?"  
  
"The elevator."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Which would be where?"  
  
The insolent girl pointed at a silver box at the end of the lobby. He took a deep breath and stalked over to it, Granger in tow. Entering the mysterious box, he watched as Granger pressed a button in the wall. The box began to rise, making his stomach lurch. The muggles in the room with them seemed unconcerned, so he did his best to look as if he rode elevators for a _living_. He was a Slytherin, so he was possessed by a natural instinct to be above everyone else.  
  
The box made quite a few stops for the other passengers before jolting to a halt at his floor. He strode out purposefully, hiding the fact that he was weaving as best he could. Granger walked out behind him, completely fine. He strode off in the general direction of their room number, Granger having to race to catch up. He arrived at the door first, yanked the key from her grasp, and unlocked the door.  
  
"As much as I should like to spend my remaining days as a doorstop, Miss Granger, Hogwarts is without a competent potions professor." The girl blushed again and entered the room.  
  
Snape made a cursory inspection of the living room/kitchen and bathroom, finding them to his liking. The bedroom, however, was not. Nor was the owl tapping at the bedroom window.  
  
He handed the owl a treat from his pocket, then read the note.  
  
_Severus,  
  
Apologies for the accommodations. It was the only room left when I called. The conference is being held in the conference room in the hotel. Hope you're enjoying yourself, but doubtful. Please give my best to Miss Granger.  
  
Albus  
  
_Severus snorted and dropped the paper on the table. Granger looked at him questioningly, but he didn't bother to sate her curiosity. Instead, he ripped the duvet off the one king-sized bed and dragged it out into the living room, laying it on the couch. No protest was made.  
  
"Miss Granger." He spoke softly, once he had his fury in check to the point where he trusted himself to open his mouth.  
  
"Yes?" He decided to ignore the forgotten use of 'sir'.  
  
"You will go unpack, then go to bed." She nodded, businesslike.  
  
"Goodnight, Professor." He didn't offer any response, but dragged his satchel into his lap and began to remove things. Two books, a set of black robes, an extra set of black muggle clothes to match what he was already wearing, and a pair of blue, striped pajamas.  
  
Finding the bathroom closed off and occupied, he quickly stripped down to his underwear. He was just buttoning up the top when Miss Granger walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a red nightie. She had a book under her arm, and her hair was frizzier than usual thanks to the brushing she had just given it. Realizing he was staring, he refocused on his book and pushed her out of his mind.  
  
A light clicked on in the adjoining room. There was the sound of shuffling, a contented sigh, then the noise of a book opening. Snape realized he was very unaccustomed to sharing his quarters if he could hear a book opening from twenty feet away. He couldn't even hear the street below. A quill was now scratching. He snarled and stared at his book, determined not to lose concentration.  
  
His eyes eventually betrayed him and refused to stay open and working properly. He clicked off his lamp and burrowed down into his makeshift bed, cursing Dumbledore and his meddling ways.

###

_A/N: If you've gotten to this point in the story and you're actually reading my two paragraphs of blather, I really hope you're intending to review. You seem like a patient person, dear reader. Please take pity on the hungry author. Constructive criticsm would be greatly appreciated.  
  
Some of you may recognize my Pen Name from another SS/HG fic, Lie Like We Do. FFdN has seen fit to remove this story from the fanfiction archives because it was chat based, so it can no longer be found here. If anybody wishes to read more of this fic, please feel free to e-mail me.  
  
Disclaimer: I also must say that I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't really want to. I mean, you have to think, 'With all that money, is Joanne really happy?' She is? Oh. Never mind.  
  
/Sigerson_


	2. In Which Things Get Worse

"Miss Granger! Wake up! Granger!"  
  
Infuriating girl. If she hadn't been up so late doing - Snape paused to check the stack of papers on the bedside table - all of her homework... and it was complete. No wonder it was like trying to wake the dead getting her up. He prodded her a bit, shook her gently, and finally gave up and shook her hard. She still stayed unconscious. He stood up and thought carefully, then leant down, shaking her hard and yelling,  
  
"Miss Granger! Ten points from Gryffindor and detention with Filch! Conduct unbecoming of a Head Girl! I'm failing you on your Potions NEWT!" She was suddenly bolt upright and protesting in gibberish.  
  
"No- Professor- pleashe- didna- wha?" Her plain brown eyes finally focused on the face attached to the shoulders she had latched onto in her hysteria. They were thin, pajama-clad shoulders, and had just begun to shake.  
  
"Miss Granger!" Being roared at by Snape was grating on the mind at such an ungodly hour. "Unhand me this instant!"  
  
"Sorry, sir... What time is it?" She sounded anything but sorry, having taken quite poorly to the fact that Snape wasn't even out of his pajamas yet and was yelling at her to get out of bed. He didn't look bad in stripes, though...  
  
_The HELL?!_  
  
"Miss Granger! I will not tolerate such language! Do not think even for an instant that just because I cannot deduct points that I cannot make your time here... difficult." His voice had switched gears from a horrifying yell to smooth, threatening tones in under a second.  
  
"Sorry, sir. I wasn't thinking." She wondered how her half-asleep mind had managed to blare the query aloud.  
  
"As per usual. I expect you to be at the door table in ten minutes." He turned on his heel and left. How he got his pajamas to billow was a mystery to Hermione. She had nearly fallen back into the covers when he reappeared in the doorway.  
  
"Miss Granger, a word of advice. If you mention my sleeping attire to _anyone_, your Potions NEWT drops by forty percent." She nodded, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. He left again, face set in the most dreadful scowl, the one he saved for Harry.  
  
Summoning all of her energy into one great effort, she dragged herself into a standing position. Her back and neck protested loudly at this treatment, her joints scolding her fiercely. Ignoring them she yawned and stretched, only to become aware of a sharp pain in her neck. Alas, the lot of a bookworm.  
  
Pulling on her white robe, she stumbled into the bathroom. She broke showering world records for speed, a habit picked up from waking up late in the morning every day after an intense night of study. After casting a few quick drying spells on herself, she flew out the door and back into her bedroom to change.

###

Snape sat in the living room, tapping his foot and checking his pocketwatch every few seconds for dramatic effect. He heard the shower water start and groaned miserably. Perfect. Late thanks to female vanity. Albus was going to pay for this. _"Albus, here. I got you more lemon drops in Vancouver. Oh, try these saltwater taffies. No thanks, I've already tried one."_ Maybe he could find a new poison at the conference. Something painful, slow, and untraceable...  
  
_What the naked student!?  
  
_Hermione Granger, in all her bushy-haired glory, had just raced into her bedroom to change. The difficulty in this was that the bedroom was down the hall from the bathroom, having resulted in Snape being exposed to a great deal of young, supple flesh. Particularly the bits that jiggled as she ran.  
  
"MISS GRANGER! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!? IF YOU CANNOT KEEP YOURSELF PROPERLY CLOTHED, I SHALL ATTEND THE CONFERENCE ALONE! AUGH!" At least, that's what he would have said, had his tongue been operational. It was currently attached to the roof of his suddenly parched mouth.  
  
Fifteen agonizing seconds later, Granger leapt athletically out of her bedroom in proper muggle attire. Professor Snape was cooly waiting for her, tapping his foot and looking at his watch pointedly. He was dressed in dark indigo jeans and a pitch-black golf shirt. His hair was straightened and looked oddly clean. If Snape was dressing for an occasion, it was sure to be an important one.  
  
"Professor, the mandatory lecture for me is in the afternoon two days from now. Not that I mind, but why are-"  
  
"I'm going for breakfast. There will be some other reputable Potions Masters and Mistresses in the Hall, whom I intend to see. If you slow my progress, things will not go well for you. Are we understood?" A direct answer from the head of Slytherin was not exactly forthcoming.  
  
"No, sir, not at all! Why-"  
  
"I was under the impression that you were an intelligent young woman, Miss Granger. I have been misinformed, appa-"  
  
"Sir, I just wanted to kn-"  
  
"Miss Granger. Never interrupt me. Ever." She opened her mouth to argue, but caught the slightly manic glint in his eyes and thought better of it.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
It may have been just as easy to lie, but he could think of no excuse to drag her around. His own reasons were fairly simple: point of conversation, or excuse to leave said conversation. Children always had something wrong with them that needed to be attended to.

###

Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, disintegrating his teeth. He was trying to beat his own record for Most Lemon Drops Inside His Mouth At Once and was up to 13. Sweet and sour, the perfect balance of flavour. He tried to smile, but the candies were preventing the muscles in his jaw from executing that particular maneuver.  
  
He thought of Severus, and how much the boy despised his perfect little candies. Albus Dumbledore was not often a vengeful man, but when Severus had told Minerva in the staff room that 'No grown wizard should ever like sweets that much. It's not normal.', a little harmless torture had seemed in order.  
  
Dumbledore giggled merrily through his mouthful of candy, reveling in how easy it was to get Severus off the Hogwarts grounds. Normally he was kicking and screaming. He would be forced of the grounds nonetheless, but would be loud about it. It had been simple enough to enlist Professor Darling. It was pretty much accepted now that almost every magical person over the age of three owed him a life debt. He collected life debts.  
  
_"Albus, don't be a fool."  
  
"I'm not, Minnie." She had looked at him disbelievingly at this comment, so he had added, "Fine, then. A poll, all right? By show of hands, who in this room owes me a life debt?" The staff room was quite full. One at a time, hands were raised. Even Minerva raised her hand, albeit grudgingly.  
  
"Still, this proves nothing."  
  
"Of course not, my dear." And then she hit him, Your Honour._  
  
It would be good for Severus to get out and meet some new people, perhaps enjoy the fresh air of Canada. He could almost see the vein throbbing on Snape's forehead.  
  
Hermione was a sweet, intelligent girl. It was puzzling that Severus should dislike her so much. Perhaps three days in her company would change his mind a little. Or drive him nutters. Either way, it would be entertaining. Scheming was one thing that the old man delighted in. It was like chess, really. He could have been a Slytherin, as Minerva often informed him.  
  
Three days. He picked out three lemon drops from his near-empty bag, each slightly deformed. He popped one into his mouth, then put the other two aside. He felt Godlike. It was a very nice feeling.

###

_I will not go fanboy. I will not go fanboy. I will not go fanboy. I will no- Merlin! Mistress Wheathson! I didn't know she was going to be here! I wonder if I could get her to autograph my copy of Potions Practically...  
_  
Professor Snape was in heaven. Surrounded on all sides by people he knew and respected, and who knew and respected him equally in return. There were no dunderheaded students, either. Anybody in the room was there because they had something to add to the general knowledge of potions. He was sitting at a table in the hall with a legendary Tim Hortons coffee and maple dip doughnut, surveying the crowd of people with great interest.  
  
Granger had long abandoned him for the medicinal lecture with some shy Canadian girls. Polite, the Canadians. Quiet, intelligent and eager to please. He was on the verge of offering a trade. They seemed to like Granger well enough.  
  
"Attention, may I have your attention! Hello!" A tall, gangly, boy of a wizard had a sonorus charm on his cracking voice. He wore a vest with a name tag that nobody could make out and a pin with the Canadian flag on his breast pocket. Eventually the room took notice of him. When he saw the sheer volume of eyes trained on him, his voice lowered a few decibels and his speech became interspersed with the word 'um'.  
  
"Um... thank you all for um coming, um it's my pleasure to be your host while you are all um staying in um Canada. For those of you who don't um know, Professor um Darling is um going to be um giving his lecture in the last afternoon of the conference.  
  
"Students and apprentices may want to attend the um lecture on medicinal potions in the Rosedale Room two floors up, or perhaps um the temporary lab in the um basement. For the Potions Masters and Mistresses, there are several lectures this morning, all of which are detailed in these pamphlets."  
  
Severus looked at the bit of paper that Granger had shoved into his hands earlier while saying, "Hi there Professor I'm just going to go to the medicinal lecture see you in three hours here's the program bye." She had spoken so quickly and without proper enunciation that he missed entirely what she said, but she was gone before he could demand an explanation.  
  
"Please um help yourself to breakfast, and direct any um questions to the desk in this room. Um, thank you." The nervous boy pointed his wand at his throat and muttered the counter charm, then got off his chair and scurried away, leaving the audience to lose interest in him and continue what they were doing.  
  
Severus looked at the modest pamphlet, checking over the five lectures available during the day. Mistress Wheathson would be speaking in a quarter of an hour on new crossbreeds of potions, a subject that fascinated him above all else. It was Wheathson's specialty, hence her trademark lack of eyebrows.  
  
Snape smirked to himself, in a manner that could almost be described as happy.

###

Seven hours later, having finished his book of essays on transfiguration Minerva had given him as a gag gift, reached onto the coffee table for the second text. It was well known among the Hogwarts staff that the feared Professor Snape had been caught alone in the staff room, brandishing his wand, and cursing foully at a furry teacup. The strict head of Gryffindor had nearly ruptured her diaphragm she was laughing so hard. The icing on the cake was the booklet detailing proper wand techniques that he had received for Christmas.  
  
Disguised with a clever charm as a particularly dull book, the secondary reading material he had packed was a comic. It was not out of shame that he hid what he was reading, but the image of He-Whose-Wrath-Must-Not-Be-Incurred reading a Batman comic was not exactly... sane. In all fairness, it was an excellent comic. Frank Miller's work.  
  
He was quite satisfied with his life at the moment, a mood which was entirely out of character for him. He had a warm dinner in his stomach, he had tea, he had a book, he had silence, and he had managed to not make an ass out of himself at the lectures he had attended. In fact, Mistress Wheathson had given him her owling address, in case he had any more ideas or questions he felt she might like to hear of. A piercing voice interuppted his reverie.  
  
"Professor? I'm back!"  
  
"Really? Should I alert the media?" Few people have the talent to make sarcasm gush from their words, let alone drip. He closed the book, not wanting to take any chances of her seeing the words. "Miss Granger, I am not blind, nor am I deaf, unfortunately. Do not interrupt my activities to state the blindingly obvious."_  
_  
"Sorry, sir."  
  
"I should assume so. How did you find the lecture? Informative?" He would have smacked himself, had the book he was holding been of lesser value to him. What did he care? He was in no way regretful of skipping the seminar. He had already logged enough time at St. Mungo's to last any normal person two lifetimes.  
  
Hermione paused and thought, her mind grasping for a proper word to best describe how much she enjoyed the lecture. Considering how rude he'd just been, she decided to make him as uncomfortable as possible. She looked up at him, feigning deep contemplation.  
  
"Almost... orgasmic."  
  
"Miss Granger! Kindly limit your adjectives to slightly less obscene words!" His eyes were bulging, his face contorted into a horrendous sneer that revealed his yellow teeth, and his satisfied mood was dissipated. Granger recoiled.  
  
"Sorry, sir. See you tomorrow, sir." She fled, blushing, into her room. He growled, then grabbed his comic again. As he rolled onto his side to get more comfortable, there was a click and the room was bathed in an eerie glow. Instantly alert, he drew his wand. The movement caused a second click, and a face appeared on a black box opposite the couch. Snape jumped off of the furniture, preparing to hex the muggle device. The screen changed from a plain, black image into a man's face, somewhat reminiscent of a floo communication.  
  
"AND TODAY IN THE WEST BANK, A CAR BOMB KILLED FIVE CANADIAN TOURISTS. TONIGHT AT EIGHT, CBC'S OWN PETER MANSBRIDGE WILL BE INTERVIEWING THE FAMILIES OF THE VICTIMS." Snape pointed his wand directly at the man's forehead, ears paining him, when Granger ran out into the room shouting over the din.  
  
"PROFESSOR! COULD YOU PLEASE TURN DOWN THE VOLUME?"  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"I SAID, COULD YOU-"  
  
"I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, FOOLISH GIRL!" Comprehension dawned on the girl's features, and she dove for the couch, rooting around between the cushions. At last she gave a triumphant cry, holding up a black bit of plastic with some buttons. She expertly manipulated a button, and the man's voice became softer.  
  
"Sir, do you want me to teach you how to use the remote?"  
  
"Remote? What a ridiculous name for a muggle picture box." Granger's upper lip disappeared.  
  
"The box is a television, sir. The remote is this smaller box in my hand."  
  
"It is of no consequence. Go." Realizing that she had probably offended him, she decided to put on a bit of an act for his benefit.  
  
"Sir, can't I just watch it for a while? My favourite show's on now." It was not exactly a lie: Star Trek was on in re-runs every hour of the day, almost. She had looked it up. Snape snarled menacingly, then relocated to the chair. He was weighing possibilities. Granger was only a Gryffindor, and couldn't help being about as subtle as a train wreck. He almost winced, realizing that he was going to give in to his curiosity.  
  
"Go ahead, Granger. Not too loud," he said, with the air of one who suffers much.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Yes, sir." Wesley Crusher mimicked, five seconds later.  
  
"Engage." There was a whooshing noise. Snape tsked loudly.  
  
"What is it, sir? Too loud? I can turn it down."  
  
"Pfft. It's fine, Granger. But you are aware that sound does not travel in space?" Hermione's finger twitched. Snape had left out the 'Miss' before her name, using just her surname in an almost affectionate manner. Plus he had just pointed out one of the biggest arguments in Star Trek, which he had only seen ten seconds of.  
  
"Of course. What can I say? It was the eighties."  
  
"Indeed." He put down his book and sat beside her on the couch, making sure to leave at least a foot of space between them. She handed him the remote, which he took and studied carefully. Then he turned up the volume.

###

_A/N: And I think I'll leave it there, because it was getting long and I'm fresh out of creativity. Meh. Thanks to my wonderful reviewers. This chapter is dedicated to you. In fact, the entire story is dedicated to you, such as it is.  
  
Response:  
  
**mrsshigwacobain**: Good gripe, but here's my reasoning: Snape is described as the sort of guy who looks both important and ugly enough to have a huge mid-life crisis. If he looks nothing like Hermione and she looks older than she is, then most modern folk would make the false assumption that they're married or dating. Or maybe Dumbledore just put it down on the registration like that. Those are my excuses._  
  
_/Sigerson_


End file.
